I saw a skeleton, the bones long and white and gleaming in the sunlight. It rattled out of the box and hit the ground in a jumbled mess. I had already turned away and opened my mouth to scream when I heard Cliff. “This is what you wanted to show us?” I made myself look again, and what had at first been an intricate network of bones was now the white backs of photographs. They were old Polaroids. Pike picked them up and held them out for me. There were five in all. The quality wasn’t great, and the lighting in them even worse, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything so fascinating. The first one was of a kid I didn’t recognize. He was standing in knee-deep water, grinning. Behind him was a collection of oaks so massive, they made the one in my front yard look like a joke. Moss hung from the branches, and above the branches a deep blue dusk lingered like a soulful kiss. The next photograph was the same kid, different angle.
